


Used Two

by TheDeathEcchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Light Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeathEcchi/pseuds/TheDeathEcchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not used to the comfort of another. Certainly not a manic pyro with a flair for the drama as much as destruction. She's not used to stepping out of her comfort zone. She's not used to hating someone one moment, worrying about them the next, and falling for them after. [Sequel to Used To]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Used Two

She's not used to the comfort of another. Certainly not a manic pyro with a flair for the drama as much as destruction. She's not used to stepping out of her comfort zone. She's not used to hating someone one moment, worrying about them the next, and falling for them after.

She's not used to writhing naked between the sheets with them, either. 

She's not used to two different hands, one a burning fleshy, the other cool metallic, cupping and squeezing her breasts and kneading them like dough. She's not used to a warm, wet tongue coiling around her nipples, ravenous and sucking, teeth grazing, ready to bite.

She's not used to him actually biting.

She's not used to covering her mouth to hold in the scream that spills forth as she shudders, in the sweet mix of pain and pleasure that courses through her like a current.

She's not used to him roughly prying her hand away and whispering 'Don't ya dare hold back. Scream for me, Snowflake.' and nibbling her neck. She's not used to whimpering. She's not used to the nervous shake that passes through her, wondering what'll happen if she refuses him.

She's not used to testing those waters.

She's not used to turning to him with what she hopes is a smug look and saying 'You're not the boss of me.' She's not used to the look of surprise that crosses his face, nor the brief feeling of superiority she feels, having finally won over on Ju--

She's not used to being shoved facedown onto the bed, nor the yelp that comes out. She's not used to the way her heart seems to blink out of existence when his voice, his drawling, hungry, lustful voice growls 'Tonight I am.'

She's not used to the feeling of rope around her wrists.

She's not used to the paradoxical feeling of helplessness and sensuousness as the knot is cinched. She's not used to the way her excitement is visible, dripping down her plump legs to leave a stain on the already filthy bed.

She's not used to him purring in her ear 'I'm calling the shots now, love.', and biting her lobe. She's not used to the sound that comes from her, loud and uninhibited. 

She's not used to a pair of fingers slipping into her her sopping wet folds.

She's not used to his surprisingly delicate technique. She's not used to the way his fingers explore her, tease her, and draw out sounds she hasn't heard herself make since she was a teenager and just discovered her changing body, newfound libido, and the power her own hands held over herself.

She's not used to someone else having that power over her. She's not used to liking--no, _loving_ it. She's not used to shaking her hips, her body aching for more, but unsure how to ask.

She's not used to Junkrat reading her. 

She's not used to the fingers being yanked out only to be replaced by another pair, colder, harder-- _oh dear gods she hoped he cleaned that hand._

She's not used to being spanked.

She's not used to that powerful sensation of her ample bottom being struck, where no doubt a handprint is forming. She's not used to it happening again and again, tears forming at her eyes as she's punished like a petulant child, and yet pleasured like a grown woman.

She's not using to orgasming that loud.

She's not used to the way her voice echoes off the walls and rings in her ears. She's not used to the mad cackle from her favorite lunatic, a laugh that signifies he won.

She's not used to turning to face him and, with a smirk, saying 'That the best you've got?'

She's not used to having her hair pulled.

She's not used to him looking straight into her eyes--deep amber glaring into chocolate brown--and saying 'I ain't even gotten _started_ , sheila.'

She's not used to being taken so roughly.

She's not used to his 'chief explosive', as he so charmingly calls it, piercing her like a pick pierces ice, nor his hands clasping onto her bottom for support.

She's not used to the way she spasms suddenly, eyes rolling slightly and vision swimming as she's taken to heights she's never been before--and she once climbed Everest!

She's not used to him smacking as he thrusts, twin sensations that make it hard for her to maintain her focus, her composure, her _sanity_. She's not used to feeling more exhausted than she ever felt in her life, but so alive at the same time. She's not used wanting to feel that way forever.

She's not used to him asking in that insufferably sexy, cocky voice of his, 'In'r out, love?'

She's not used to whispering 'In.' She's not used to him giggling and asking again, and again, pretending he can't hear her, all the while she's bubbling like a volcano about to burst.

She's not used to abandoning all pretense of power and control and turning to him, red in the face, glassy in the eyes, dry in the mouth, and screaming, _begging_ 'Cum inside me, goddammit!'

She's not used to the way his grin widens and he laughs 'Alright, alright, Snowflake, no need ta yell, heard ya tha first time. Chill out.' Him laughing at his own 'clever' pun, she's definitely used to that.

She's not used to straining hard in the ropes and shrieking like a demon when he all but pulverizes her, filling her up at the same time she explodes in juices, then again, and again, until her mind, so filled with chemicals, loses count, for both of them.

She's not used to being cradled so gently after such rough business, held in two different arms that belong to the same wild and crazy man. She's not used to his lips, which only moments ago had marked her, now kissing her with a gentle sweetness. She's not used to this feeling of wholeness, this feeling of serenity after complete surrender.

She's not used to the goofy smile that grows on her face as she bathes in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She's not used to the way they curl up together, bare, naked, knackered, so full and fulfilled.

She's not used to feeling so safe and secure, even though she's still in the ropes he's forgotten to release her from. She's not used to not caring about that, deciding that it'll make the morning all the more fun.

She's not used to the way, when, not ten minutes later, he springs up, a feral look in his eyes, erection bobbing, and looks down at her, and growls 'Time fer round two!'

She's not used to smirking at him, licking her lips, and saying 'Bring it on.'

But it's certainly something she can.


End file.
